I pass Salt my business card. It reads: "Sigma's Towel Emporium-Simply the best there is.""We're an up-and-coming entreprenurial company, hoping to make a splash in this rough-tough world of back-room deals and political savvy."I throw another towel at Salts face and continue polishing the gangster, this time his face.

I take the cigarette and combine it with my make-up bag, creating an unholy fusion of nicotine, lipstick and mascara that writhes on the floor for a few minutes before dying."Goddammit, I needed that lipstick."